


Cold as Ice

by kitausuret



Category: Marvel 616, Spectacular Spider-Man (2003) - Fandom, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Venom (Comics)
Genre: EXTREMELY TEMPORARY character death, Eddie Brock's Shitty Life, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Multi, Peter Parker Interfering in People's Lives and Relationships for over 50 years, Peter Parker's guilt complex, Pre-Slash, References to Eddie's death in SSM #5, Things are Bad with Eddie and the Symbiote, like literal minutes, no infidelity, not Venom Symbiote friendly, peter parker pov, post-"The Hunger" 2003
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29671251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitausuret/pseuds/kitausuret
Summary: After the events ofSpectacular Spider-Man (2003)#5, Peter Parker is haunted by what he witnessed as Eddie Brock died in his arms. With his separated wife thousands of miles away and still reeling emotionally from his fight with Morlun, Peter seeks to take an old nemesis' life into his hands... whether Eddie likes it or not.(written for Symbruary days 17-18: Warm/Cold)
Relationships: Eddie Brock & Peter Parker, Past? Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, Peter Parker & Venom Symbiote
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: SYMBRUARY





	Cold as Ice

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fudging the timeline a bit, but this takes place a few weeks after the events of Spectacular Spider-Man #5 (the conclusion of the "Hunger" arc) and also after the fight against Morlun. I'm not even going to try and fit in the events of Venom vol 1 into my timeline, though.

For the third time that week, Peter awoke both drenched in sweat and feeling like his blood had turned to ice in his veins. He bolted upright with a gasp, hand to his chest, as if his pulse pounding in his ears wasn’t enough to reassure him he was still alive. He took several deep breaths and willed himself to calm. He needed to get this under control. He needed to sort out what was real, what was in his mind, and what was the fault of either a megalomaniacal parasitic entity… or another megalomaniacal parasitic entity. 

Spider-Man really attracted a type, didn’t he?

Peter rolled out of bed and out of habit started pulling on his suit. He wasn’t under any illusions about getting sleep tonight. He knew the cold would persist unless he did what he had done twice this week, and swing to the Lower East Side and make certain there wasn’t a corpse in apartment 13B off Henry and Clinton Streets. He really had to stop doing this. It never changed. Every time, he would get close enough to the window, focus, and as soon as he saw the man’s chest go up and down, he would breathe a sigh of relief and depart. 

He slipped out into the night and started swinging south. Even as his muscles warmed up from the swinging, the air still felt like ice shards prickling through the fabric. The metal of his webshooters seemed to freeze right at his fingertips. Everything was cold, cold, _cold_ -

He swang faster when he started to shiver. Peter landed on the roof of the target apartment building and rappelled down until he reached the window. He pressed the side of his head to the glass and listened. He heard only his own hammering pulse. No quiet breath, no shuffle against the sheets, no heartbeat, no _life_ -

Panic seized his chest. He managed to force the window open without breaking it and rolled to his feet as he scrambled over to the bed. He clambered atop the still body that lay there, practically straddling it. “Brock, hey! Eddie! _Eddie!_ ” Peter patted the man’s face a few times before putting his index and middle fingers at his carotid artery. Nothing. _Shit, shit, shit_ \- “You don’t get to die on me today, you son of a…”

A shadow rose up behind him from the corner of his eye. He at once twisted and struck it with his fist, knocking teeth loose that then dissolved into dark droplets of matter. Peter grasped for the symbiote in the dark before he managed to pin its wriggling mass to the covers.

“What the _hell_ did you do?!”

“ _Tsss…_ you think we would have not seen you at the window, Sssspider? Until we _realized_ what kept you coming back…” 

He felt another cold wave sweep back over him. _No, no, no, no-_ “I swear, you had better fix him; bring him back right now or I will _burn you alive!_ ” 

“Sssso much anger,” it hissed, almost gleefully. 

“You want anger? I’ll _give you anger_.” Peter ripped off his mask and pushed its face into the covers, wishing he could smother it. “I could have the Human Torch here in minutes. _Bring. Him. Back._ ”

It contemplated his threat. After a beat, it vanished from under his hands and back into its host’s body. Peter span as soon as Eddie Brock awoke with a coughing gasp. The color returned to the man’s face, and sure enough, Peter could feel the very faint _thump-thump_ of his restarted pulse. He couldn’t say how long the symbiote had kept its host “on pause”, as it were, but certainly it couldn’t fuck over Eddie any more than it already had, he was sure. 

Eddie blinked up at him, blearily at first, before it seemed to hit him. “Spider-Ma- _Parker?_ Peter Parker?” 

One week after his first untimely passing, Peter had gone to the man’s apartment and once again revealed his identity to his old nemesis. He hadn’t realized at first that Brock had forgotten who he was, but it seemed like the least he could do for someone who had basically died in his arms. It was only a matter of time before he figured it out. Peter figured. Better to get ahead of it. 

“What are…” He became immediately suspicious, almost fearful. “What are you doing here?” He backed up against the wall but didn’t bother to shove Peter off his bed. A far cry from just a few years ago when Venom would have literally thrown him out the window and probably a block away. 

“I… I don’t know, I felt something, and- Look, I can’t have you _dying_ on me again, okay?” 

His gaze darkened. “What, not wanting that on your _conscience_ again?”

“I don’t have to take this from you, Brock,” Peter shot back. Hot anger chased off the chill that had invaded him mere minutes ago. He moved to sit on the edge of the tiny bed but didn’t slide off just yet. “You’re welcome for saving your life, by the way.”

“It’s only using me as bait, you know.”

“Yeah, figured that out.”

“It won’t actually let me die.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t take that chance.”

He crossed his arms and stared at the wall. They sat there in silence a minute, the only sound Eddie laying back down to turn away. 

At last Peter said, “It’s too cold.”

A shuffle as Eddie turned to face him. “What?”

“When the alien… stops you like that. I get cold. Freezing, bone-chillingly cold. I can’t stand it. I never noticed it before, but since what happened, I can’t ignore it.” 

“Well, you can go home now,” Eddie said. “You’ve done your _due diligence_.” 

“No.”

“...what? What does that even _mean_ , ‘no’?”

Peter pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor next to his mask. “It means scoot over.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Shut up and make room or I’ll get back up on top of you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eddie sneer and concede. Peter laid down beside him and once again folded his arms over his chest. He wasn’t going to let Eddie die again, not tonight. If that meant lying next to him on this lumpy, creaky mattress all night, then so be it. 

“It wasn’t always like this.”

Peter turned his head to look at Eddie. The other man still faced away from him, but now he just sounded… tired. Like he didn’t even have the energy to be angry. 

“With my other, I mean. We loved each other. We were one being.”

“Oh, yeah, one being with the sole purpose of _killing me_ -”

“That’s not true and you know it. We had years together; _good_ years. Years that were not easy, no, but they were… fulfilling.” Salt tinged the air. “And then, after Anne died, everything started getting worse. Not that I expect _you_ to understand what loss is like.”

“I spent months not knowing if my wife was alive or dead, so yeah, I _do_ know.” 

“Your screwups are your own, Spider-Man.”

“If you’re trying to get me out of your bed, it won’t work.”

“Shouldn’t you be with her, anyways?”

Peter clenched his jaw. “Leave her out of this.”

“You brought her up.”

They lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence. Peter closed his eyes with a sigh. He knew what had happened to Anne Weying. He also knew Eddie had expressed a desire to try and fix things with her, something Peter had himself encouraged him to pursue. Was that what had set off this chain of events? It would certainly make sense. Of course, a long-term bond with a parasite could only turn out badly in the end. If only he’d made sure it was destroyed years ago, then…

Then what? Then Eddie either succumbs to his cancer earlier? He succeeds in taking his life at Our Lady of Saints? But regardless, the symbiote had been Peter’s responsibility. At least in part, he was responsible for this mess. 

“Eddie.”

He didn’t respond with more than a grunt. 

“I’m going to help you out of this.”

“You can’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“You don’t get a choice.” 

“...fine.”

“Great.” Peter pressed his shoulder against Eddie’s back, weirdly comforted by the contact. He’d stay the rest of tonight, make sure to make it to the school for work in the morning, but then... “We start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie agreed, and pressed back against Peter. 

There was no telling how this would go, but Peter knew one thing: it couldn’t possibly make things worse for either of them. 


End file.
